


How To Be The Best Wingman

by tirralirra



Series: Komori Motoya's Guides to Life and Love [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant (Ish), EJP Raijin - Freeform, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29689008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirralirra/pseuds/tirralirra
Summary: A practical guide by Komori Motoya. Demonstrated through documenting the interventions on a courtship between two idiots....Motoya thinks that Atsumu and Kiyoomi would be a perfect match. Now he just has to get them together.
Relationships: Komori Motoya & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Komori Motoya/Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Komori Motoya's Guides to Life and Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181768
Comments: 28
Kudos: 163





	How To Be The Best Wingman

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for mostly profanity.
> 
> I'll be straightforward, this is a weird fic. YMMV (your mileage may vary).
> 
> This was conceived as a SakuAtsu POV Outsider fic, but is very Komori-centric, so I erred on the side of caution with the primary relationship as platonic Komori & Sakusa.
> 
> I love good brother Osamu in SakuAtsu stories, but I firmly believe we need more (chaotic) good cousin Komori in this world.

* * *

_Love goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps_

Much Ado About Nothing – Act 3, Scene 2

* * *

Komori Motoya is a man of many qualities, some being: encyclopaedic knowledge of the _Love!! Magic Kira Kira_ series (he has a little sister, and _taste_ ), excellent libero skills (obviously), sub-par cooking ability (don’t ask), and persuasive eyebrow acrobatics (their round shape helps). Subtlety is not one of them.

“So, the _Black Jackals,_ huh?” Motoya says from where’s he sprawled on Kiyoomi’s bed, head hanging off the edge upside down and decidedly not “helping pack up for your big move, as the kind-hearted cousin I am.”

“Motoya, it was _five years ago,_ ” Kiyoomi sighs, not acknowledging him otherwise. He’s pretending to debate between what books to pack, but he can’t fool Motoya; Kiyoomi is absolutely going to take all of them.

“What was five years ago?” Motoya asks with all the innocence he can muster. “I didn’t say anything about anything five years ago, how specific, Kiyoomi-kun, care to share what you thought I was talking about?”

Kiyoomi doesn’t even turn around, just picks up a pair of balled up socks from the open drawer next to him and whips it backwards at Motoya’s face. He catches it handily, not quite stifling a snicker.

“The way you said ‘Black Jackals’ is the exact intonation you used to use when saying ‘Miya Atsumu,’ back in high school,” Kiyoomi grumbles.

“I hate to break it to you, but the fact that you remember that is maybe the most damning evidence of your crush.”

Kiyoomi actually turns around at that, and fixes Motoya with his flattest, most done-with-your-bullshit-Motoya look in his arsenal. “I did _not_ have a crush on him back then, and I certainly don’t now.”

“Oh please, the legendary 2012 Interhigh final? Followed by the All-Japan Youth Training Camp? The inherent tension between a top setter with killer serves versus a top spiker with killer serve reception? And now high school rivals meet again as teammates—the romance writes itself.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t dignify that with a response, so Motoya continues.

“Look, I get it man. I’ve been playing against the guy professionally for like four years now. Those thighs! That hair! He learned how to use toner! He was already hot and he had a glow up.” Motoya rolls over and points at Kiyoomi. “But so did you. And besides, it’s not just about looks—”

“Don’t point. It’s rude,” Kiyoomi says. “And if this is about your goddamn glitter theory or whatever—”

“SPARKLE. It’s the Sparkle Theory. And you should care, it’s for your sake, after all.” Motoya chucks the balled up socks back at Kiyoomi. He also catches it. Downsides of both having world-class athletic reflexes.

“For the last time, I do not have a crush—” he holds up a hand to shush Motoya, “—and even if I did, I don’t need your help, Motoya,” Kiyoomi carefully unrolls the socks and folds them into a neat rectangle. He tucks them into his open suitcase, and places his hands in his lap, staring at Motoya with a solemn gaze.

“Of course you don’t,” Motoya says back obligingly, rolling off the bed to actually start helping with packing.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Kiyoomi squint at his non-answer, but he doesn’t say anything else. With a small sigh, he turns back to his own box. Motoya flips through a book absently to continue his ruse until the sounds of Kiyoomi packing start up again.

It’s true that meddling in Kiyoomi’s potential love life, non-existent as it may be, is probably more trouble than it’s worth. And Motoya certainly wouldn’t be a good cousin if he doesn’t know when to quit.

But, he wouldn’t be the _best_ cousin if he doesn’t know when Kiyoomi is wrong. There’s someone out there that’s perfect for him, and that someone just might be a soon-to-be-teammate he had a crush on in highschool.

“If you ever do, you know I’d have your back, right?” Motoya says. “I’ll be your wingman in a heartbeat.” A wingbeat. Whatever.

There’s a soft grunt of affirmation from beside him. That’s probably as close to a heartfelt answer that he’s likely to get at this point, so Motoya takes it as a win, and as tacit approval. Because despite what Kiyoomi says, he _did_ have a crush, and he needs all the help he can get, as prickly and cautious as he is. 

Motoya will be the best wingman ever. He knows exactly what to do. He has a whole plan.

* * *

**Step 1: Open your eyes to the possibilities**

* * *

Komori Motoya, other than being V.League’s tallest libero, really only considers himself number one in, well, _one_ respect, and that is in the art of understanding the one and only Sakusa Kiyoomi.

It’s a specialty that comes from many years experience, first by default, then by choice. It started through proximity—being cousins close in age at the same boring family functions, shuffled off to the kids’ table together. Then, with a bit of prompting, as in “Motoya, dear, why don’t you hang out with Kiyoomi-kun after school?”. Eventually, it was by preference (“C’mon, I want to practice receiving your spinny spikes!” “Okay.”). By now it’s natural, as one of Kiyoomi’s few, and certainly his closest, friend.

All this to say that Motoya knows Kiyoomi better than anyone. Not because Kiyoomi doesn’t let people in—he’s a straightforward guy—but because Motoya’s knowledge is built on sticking close and paying attention over many years. They may be near the same age but Kiyoomi is still younger and the youngest sibling in his family, and Motoya’s big brother instincts are hard to ignore, even from a few prefectures away nowadays.

And the first step to being a good wingman, Motoya decides, knowing Kiyoomi as he does, must lie in a sense of knowing what he wants—even if he doesn’t know himself. Especially if he doesn’t know himself. Knowing him, knowing what he likes, and of course knowing what would be a good match or a disaster waiting to happen.

Anyways, that’s what Motoya is here for—besides the familial affection and/or exceptional libero skills, of course: to keep his eyes open to the possibilities, and to make sure Kiyoomi doesn’t miss out on anything, potential romance or otherwise. And boy does Miya Atsumu have potential—Sparkle Potential, that is.

Kiyoomi gives him crap for his theory (“Theories, Motoya, are a body of _systematically and repeatedly demonstrated hypotheses_ —” “SHUSH”), but he won’t be complaining when it nabs him the love of his life. Motoya firmly believes that sometimes it takes an outside point-of-view to give a new perspective on love and life. So yeah, the Sparkle Theory is a valuable summation of what Motoya thinks will upset the balance in the ever-so-steady life of his cousin towards love.

It goes like this:

#### THE SAKUSA KIYOOMI (working) SPARKLE THEORY OF LOVE POTENTIAL

And Calculations of Sparkle Potential

By Komori Motoya, a Sakusa Kiyoomi Expert

For Sakusa Kiyoomi, observation has proved that genuine interest in another human being can go one of two ways: (1) Kiyoomi recognizes a potential threat and needs to know everything about them, immediately or (2) Kiyoomi recognizes a kindred spirit and...needs to know everything about them, immediately. 

This is what Motoya deems the Sparkle Effect, due to the actual gleam witnessed in the subject’s eyes.

It’s a particular glint in Kiyoomi’s eyes that denotes one or two of a few things—like admiration, camaraderie, or a sense of challenge. Kiyoomi recognizes something he likes and, bam, *sparkle*. Motoya sees it as the stepping stone to romantic potential—the Sparkle Potential, or SP, if you will. 

It’s not so much a spark to ignite the flames of passion and more...the sparkle of a distant star, the sudden comprehension of some celestial body in orbit, one that Kiyoomi tracks in the sky and patiently calculates movement and orbit against his own. It happened with their fourth grade math teacher (admiration). It happened with Ushijima (a sense of challenge). It happened with Iizuna (camaraderie).

It happened most recently and memorably at the 2012 Interhigh Final: Inarizaki vs. Itachiyama, which at turns felt more like a serve competition between Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu than a six-on-six game. Motoya had seen admiration, respect, and challenge in the steely glint of Sakusa’s eyes that day—an unprecedented Sparkle Trifecta.

So yeah, Miya Atsumu has Sparkle Potential in spades, but it’s somewhat misleading. His very high SP scores average out with his very low SP scores, yet still land him squarely in the Favorable Sparkle Potential Zone. On the one hand his SP stats are near off the charts in some respects, as volleyball skills and dedication are weighed heavily in this assessment. His serve prowess against Kiyoomi’s serve reception? His wily and incredible setting skill? Off the charts (yes, there are charts). But then there’s a whole host of low marks for small, but crucial details, like questionable table manners, generally loud demeanor and appearance, and his frankly terrible jokes.

Yet despite this dichotomy, Motoya made a point to observe individuals with Sparkle Potential regardless of how they got there, so he also noticed when Kiyoomi’s behavior diverged from expectation back in high school.

Of course, there was still the intense staring. An air of judgment, hunched shoulders accompanying sharp observation. But there was also Kiyoomi lingering ever so slightly on the court post-Interhigh. A slight pick-up to their pace as they walked into Ajinomoto training center with a distinct head of blond hair ahead of them. The way that Kiyoomi wanted to be on Atsumu’s team for the first couple days, and then absolutely refused for the next couple days. The way he swung to interrogate poor Kageyama like some knee-jerk reaction to his intense focus on Atsumu.

So, yeah, Motoya is pretty sure that Kiyoomi had a crush on Atsumu in high school, consciously or unconsciously, and so when Kiyoomi had his pick of division one teams, it begged the questions: why MSBY? Why Osaka? Kiyoomi can chalk it up to the Jackal’s ranking, the particulars of their offer, any number of logical metrics, but Motoya doesn’t doubt one bit that, once again, consciously or unconsciously, the draw of a brilliant setter had some bearing.

Sure, Kiyoomi was off at university for four years, beyond Motoya’s immediate observation for any sparkling candidates. But not once did Kiyoomi text him about any particular player or classmate except in passing. Motoya knows that Kiyoomi doesn’t give up, needs to see things through to the end, and he suspects that Miya Atsumu may be an enigma he has yet to comprehend. Kiyoomi always loves a good challenge. He’ll surely grow to admire Atsumu’s professional work ethic if he doesn’t already. And, what better way to foster camaraderie than on the same team? 

The trifecta all at once, again. 

* * *

**Step 2: Take the initiative**

* * *

Waking up at dawn on a long holiday weekend, loading Kiyoomi’s boxes and luggage into the rented truck, and taking turns driving them the six hours from Tokyo to Higashiosaka and one of the MSBY Black Jackals’ recommended apartment buildings is entirely worth it for the moment that Motoya and Kiyoomi run into Atsumu in the lobby.

“Omi-kun! Welcome to our humble abode.” He looks fresh from a late lunch, a small carry-out bag clasped in one hand. He waves to Motoya too.

 _Omi-kun?_ Motoya mouths at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi ignores him.

“Miya,” he says, and nods. Smooth, Kiyoomi. Very smooth.

Atsumu doesn’t seem to mind the less-than-enthusiastic reply. He simply smiles and makes a point of holding the elevator for them. 

“D’you have a lot of things? Need any help?” Atsumu offers. He sounds casual, but sincere. There’s a new score on the SP chart.

“Actually—eurk” Kiyoomi pointedly steps on Motoya’s foot as he enters the elevator. Goddamn this man’s bony heels. Motoya grins through the pain. This is what they mean by no pain, no gain, right? “I think Sakusa and I have got a handle on it, thanks. There’s not many boxes and the furniture will be delivered later.”

Atsumu smiles and shrugs. “Suit yourself. Floor nine, right?”

Kiyoomi nods, and Atsumu presses the button for seven and nine. The elevator is not the newest, not the fastest, but Motoya doesn’t even notice since he’s too busy having a furious, silent conversation with Kiyoomi.

 _I know what you’re doing, please stop._ Kiyoomi says with a flat look.

 _What do you mean, I’m being a friendly and personable person to your new neighbor._ Motoya cocks one eyebrow up.

 _We don’t need help moving, and I don’t need your help with my non-existent crush._ If anyone can impart the absolute depths of exasperation in their eyebrows, it’s Kiyoomi. Such drama.

 _He called you Omi-kun, he knows your floor already, he offered to help with moving???_ Komori’s eyebrows bounce up and down rapidly three times to punctuate each point.

 _Motoya…_ Eyebrows dip, nose wrinkles. Kiyoomi, alas, is immune to the round eyebrows trick.

“Well, this is me,” Atsumu says as the elevator slows and the doors slide open. Both cousins snap their faces to look at Atsumu.

“Hey, Atsumu-kun. Since you offered to help, you know what would be really helpful?” Motoya doesn’t even have to dodge Kiyoomi’s bony elbow because he’s too busy holding his box of plants delicately.

Atsumu pauses at the elevator doors and holds an arm up to delay their close. “Just say the word.”

“Moving sucks and I’m starving. Your lunch there smells delicious,” Motoya can make out the Onigiri Miya logo printed on the side of his takeaway bag, a little scrunched up with the way that Atsumu grips it. “Could you recommend a good place nearby to order some delivery for dinner?”

Atsumu brightens and lifts up the bag. “I’ll do you one better, I’ll run out and grab some Onigiri Miya for you.”

Motoya barely refrains from serving Kiyoomi a sly side-eye with his smile. He can feel the other’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head though.

“Really, how kind, I can tell you two are going to be the _best_ kind of neighbors,” Motoya grins.

Atsumu laughs a bit at that. “I remember how much it sucked to move in my rookie year too. Don’t worry, Omi-kun, you can count on me, your senpai~”

Kiyoomi grimaces. The door starts beeping with impatience to close, so Atsumu moves out of the way with a wave. “I’ll drop by later!” 

And the door slides closed before Kiyoomi can protest. Motoya snickers, hunching his shoulders and burying his face into the box in his arms.

“Motoya, if I didn’t need you for labor I would drop kick you off the balcony.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re mad about, _‘Omi-kun,’_ I just secured us dinner. A simple thanks—to Atsumu, your kind new neighbor, of course—will suffice.” Kiyoomi can thank Motoya later, at the wedding.

===

True to his word, a polite knock sounds at the door later that evening. Motoya busies himself with a fiddly bit of furniture assembly, and leaves Kiyoomi to answer the door. He listens to their conversation while pretending to sort through the screws on the floor.

“Evening, Omi-kun. Nice place you got here.”

Motoya doesn’t need to look up to know that Kiyoomi has the most skeptical face on, glancing around at the sheer mess of furniture and boxes in view of the door.

“I’m sure it’s almost exactly the same as yours, Miya,” he grumbles, “and it’s not ready for guests, or I would invite you in,” he tacks on quickly.

Atsumu doesn’t sound offended when he answers. “No worries, I’m sure you’ve got a whole plan. I wouldn’t want to intrude. ‘Sides, I already had onigiri today—these are all for you.”

There’s a rustling of a plastic bag, and then, Kiyoomi murmurs a soft thanks. It’s so quiet that Motoya almost misses it.

“‘Course, don’t mention it,” Atsumu’s voice is suddenly extra loud. “I’ll see you at practice. Nice seeing you too, Komori, say hi to Suna for me when you get back to Hiroshima.” He winks, garishly enough that Motoya can see it from further in the apartment, then turns to leave with another little half wave.

Kiyoomi closes the door, and doesn’t move for a second. Then he turns and joins Motoya on the floor, gently plopping the bag of takeaway down with a dll thud.

“You suck, Motoya.”

“What’s that, I hear? ‘Thanks my darling cousin?’ You’re oh-so-welcome, Kiyoomi-kun,” Motoya says as he makes grabby hands for the food. Kiyoomi slides it out of reach though, and catches Motoya’s eye.

“Motoya. I don’t need help with—whatever that was. Really. Truly.” Kiyoomi gives him a stern look to battle Motoya’s own earnest one. They stare each other down. Finally, Kiyoomi sighs again and looks up at the ceiling. “If I admit I had a crush five years ago, will you leave it alone now?”

Motoya doesn’t want to lie so he doesn’t answer, crowing triumphantly instead. “I knew it! C’mon, Kiyoomi, you gotta give it a shot now. I was getting some seriously good vibes from Atsumu just now, he definitely wants to be friends, and he could very well be more than that someday—”

“Impossible,” Kiyoomi scoffs, without hesitation, but relents his death grip on the food. They both sit on the floor with the kind of exhaustion only moving can bring, mindlessly scarfing down the fresh onigiri.

 _That’s what you think,_ Motoya thinks. Nothing is impossible, just highly improbable. And this isn’t even statistics—Atsumu clearly already likes Kiyoomi. The question is whether that like can grow into something more. If Motoya has anything to say about it, the answer is _yes._

There’s an old proverb or something that says if you meddle in others’ love affairs, you’ll get kicked by a horse. Well, Motoya thinks, saddle up and call him the pony express, because the only kicking this horse is going to do is kickstart the most epic love story with Motoya at the reins. 

* * *

**Step 3: Do your research**

* * *

Granted, Kiyoomi has a point; it _has_ been five years since that fateful Interhigh and the following camp. Brief apartment encounters aside, it would be remiss on Motoya’s part to ignore the possibility that Atsumu may no longer appeal in the same way to Kiyoomi’s sparkling sensibilities. Being the best wingman means making your best effort at research too, if possible.

At least this isn’t 2012—there’s a whole new world out there of defunct Facebook groups, Instagram posts, and Twitter feeds to mine for information.

Unfortunately, Atsumu’s social media is sparse on personal life details, only a handful of slightly illuminating tidbits sprinkled here and there. Motoya can only revise the Sparkle Potential this far:

  1. Volleyball skills: obviously still a big, sparkly draw. Maybe even better now that they’re on the same team and can see each other’s hard work and dedication almost every day.
  2. General demeanor: It seems like Atsumu grew up a little here, based on a few shaky videos and tags of Atsumu out at team dinners. Obviously Atsumu is a pretty conscientious guy to the extent that he offered to help Kiyoomi and Motoya with moving. So Motoya is banking on this and other questionable qualities having improved since he last witnessed them.
  3. Questionable jokes: He seems to think he’s the straight man in MSBY’s clown act half the time, but if he’s not the butt of a joke, he’s still landing terrible ones. However, now with social media even the cringiest ones get an appreciative, meme-ative audience, so the jury’s out on whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.



It’s...less than he would have liked to find out. 

Kiyoomi is not very forthcoming either. It’s now weeks past his initial practices and Motoya’s “just checking in on my wonderful cousin” texts get shorter and shorter responses. He could maybe try Atsumu, but Motoya never really befriended him close enough to ask increasingly personal questions with absolutely no context. Well, he could, but he’s doing this for Kiyoomi’s sake; can’t be scaring off the prospects with the overbearing family act. That, and he doesn’t have his number.

Luckily for Motoya in that respect, he has his very own direct connection to an Inarizaki VBC alumnus.

“Suna! My teammate, my classmate, my fellow aficionado of _Love!! Magic Kira Kira_ —” Komori and Suna have bonded (commiserated) over these last four years together in many ways, one being how they are both under the thumb of their younger sisters, “—I have a very important question for you.”

“Komori,” Suna inclines his head at Motoya. “Is this about the special edition DVD that I ordered?”

“Do you know if Atsumu is dating anyone? Or interested in dating anyone?” 

Suna is in mid-swig of his drink and almost does a spit take. He swallows harshly instead and coughs as Motoya claps him on the back supportively. Well, Motoya already admitted that he lacks subtlety. 

“Hah? What the hell do you need to know that for?” Suna is still red in the face, but he fixes Motoya with a peculiar look.

“Uh.” Kiyoomi would eviscerate him if he actually tells anyone about his plan. “I’m...asking for a friend?”

There’s a beat where Suna’s eyes barely widen, then narrow. After being teammates and friends for the last few years, Motoya knows that Suna’s sleepy expression belies keen observation skills. He can feel his cheeks heating up without reason or permission. He resists the urge to squirm.

“I don’t know, actually,” Suna finally says. “And Atsumu might give the impression of being suave, but he’s too much of a volleyball idiot. He didn’t date at all in high school. Knowing him, I doubt he has time or even thinks about it much now.”

Ah, well. That could be a good or bad thing. At this point in their lives they’re all volleyball idiots. And what better way to overcome the time constraints than by dating a teammate? Still, Komori feels his enthusiasm droop a little.

Suna nods minutely, then looks almost hesitant. “So, this ‘friend’ of yours, they’re interested in Atsumu, huh? No accounting for taste I guess.” He huffs an odd sort of laugh.

Motoya quirks his eyebrows. “Oh? Anything I should know from one of his oldest friends?”

“First, his oldest friend is probably Aran,” Suna smiles wryly. “I’m just an old teammate.”

“Okay, from his ‘just an old teammate’ then, c’mon Suna, give yourself some credit here. I know you’re a smart guy, what’s the dirt? Any red flags?” Motoya leans towards Suna eagerly. 

Suna leans back. “No, no. Atsumu is a good guy. Kind of wild, but what you see is what you get. He’s got his heart on his sleeve.”

“But. Uh, I mean, you know,” Suna looks away and rubs his neck, “he always likes a captive audience. Talk about something you have in common. He’s really not that complicated.”

“Right.” That will work. Now how to get Kiyoomi to initiate? “That’s good to know. Hey, one more thing,” Motoya spins and claps an arm over Suna’s shoulder. He can only do this at the start of practice because neither of them are sweaty yet.

“...Sure.”

“Would you give me Atsumu’s number?” Komori twists his head to use his most persuasive position of his eyebrows.

“Ugh, please don’t give me that look, Komori. It’s atrocious that you can get away with so much,” he’s only griping halfheartedly though, since he’s already pulling out his phone to pull up the number.

“Thanks Suna, I owe you.”

* * *

**Step 4: Be supportive**

* * *

  
  


**Me:** Hey, Atsumu-kun, it’s Komori.  
**Me:** I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from Suna.

 **Miya:** oh hey komori. nah, that’s fine. what’s up?

 **Me:** ahaha, well, this might sound kinda weird, but I was wondering how Sakusa’s doing?  
**Me:** He’s never gonna tell me anything so I figure you would know best. Being his new setter, and neighbor, and all that.

 **Miya:** ah, i understand. hard to get used to saying things when you didn’t have to before.

 **Me:** yeah! Exactly. 

**Miya:** he’s good. phenomenal, really. collegiate mvp is no joke. wish i could’ve see more of his uni games in person  
**Miya:** wait don’t tell him i said that. he’s gonna give me a look if you do.

 **Me:** lol I know what you’re talking about. Between you and me it’s all bark and no bite though  
**Me:** I know he’s not the friendliest guy off the bat but I also know he’s happy to be on the team.  
**Me:** don’t tell him I said that either. 

**Miya** : your secret’s safe with me, mori-mori. how’s ejp then? suna doing alright too? we’re gonna kick your asses next week

 **Me:** Keep dreaming, Miya  
  


And so begins the strangest courtship by proxy Motoya has ever initiated. Well, not like he’s done many (any) before this. It’s a little bit of trial and error, balancing how to put in a good word for Kiyoomi while simultaneously mining his own information about Atsumu and not coming across as weird or intrusive.

Unsurprisingly, volleyball is a good default conversation topic. Motoya always tries to circle back to Kiyoomi somehow, and Atsumu doesn’t seem to notice or mind. 

**Me:** Atsumu-kun’s new serve huh?

 **Kiyoomi:** I swear to the gods Motoya

 **Me:** What, it’s an innocent observation

 **Kiyoomi:** You are up to something

 **Me:** I am innocent

 **Kiyoomi:** 🙄

\---

 **Me:** wicked new serve

 **Miya:** you like? you shanked enough of them

 **Me:** i’ll get them next time. you don’t spend years receiving Sakusa’s wicked serves and not learn to adapt quickly

 **Miya:** whatever you say mori-mori

 **Me:** big words from the guy who lost to Sakusa. By my count he had 4 service aces, you had 3, no?

 **Miya:** what, you keeping count or something?

 **Me:** and why not

 **Miya:** good idea

\---

 **Kiyoomi:** I know this is your fault, I’m just not sure how yet

 **Me:** Admit it you like the competition

Food, too, is an equally good entry point for conversation. 

**Me:** best onigiri at onigiri miya, convince me

 **Miya:** no need to convince you, it’s a simple fact: tuna spring onion

 **Me:** I’m partial to spicy cucumber myself but you know who you really need to convince?  
**Me:** Sakusa  
**Me:** he insists it’s umeboshi  
**Me:** I didn’t raise him to be like this. sacreligious

 **Miya:** well it is a classic, a fundamental  
**Miya:** but you’re right, your cousin could be a little more adventurous with his food preferences

 **Me:** well I leave him in your capable culinary hands then

 **Miya:** haha, i’ll give it my best shot

\---

 **Kiyoomi:** Why. What have I done to deserve this.

 **Me:** Aw, you must be a good friend if Atsumu brings you food like that all the time

 **Kiyoomi:** You know that’s not what I’m referring to.  
**Kiyoomi:** I thought we agreed no meddling, Motoya

 **Me:** Meddling? What meddling? I said I’d only “help” if you have a crush, and you don’t right? I’m just being friendly.

 **Kiyoomi:** 😡

Now that he’s a little more friendly with Atsumu he feels equally more comfortable jumping in on the twins’ jokes online too, buoyed by Suna’s own responses. This is definitely less about putting in a good word for his cousin, since Kiyoomi doesn’t interact much beyond cursory obligation on any social media, but it certainly gives him plenty of material to encourage Kiyoomi’s attention.

**_Miya Atsumu MSBY BJ_** @setter_miyaa  
What’s a volleyball player’s best defense in court?  
.  
It was a set up!  
32 🗨️ 903 ⟲ 1.5k ♡

> **_Onigiri Miya_ ** @chef_miyao  
>  you are a crime against humor your jokes are worse than your criminal background and you cried when you thought you stole the free samples at the grocery store  
>  17 🗨️ 757 ⟲ 809 ♡
> 
> **_Miya Atsumu MSBY BJ_** @setter_miyaa  
>  SAMU i was SIX and you ACTUALLY stole them  
>  2 🗨️ 203 ⟲ 631 ♡
> 
> **_SUNARIN_ ** @sunagitsune  
>  hold up let me find that footage from the 2011 summer training camp shopping fiasco  
>  19 🗨️ 57 ⟲ 140 ♡
> 
> **_Komori_** @komorimori  
>  *patiently waiting*  
>  1 🗨️ 14 ⟲ 86 ♡

\---

 **Me:** [screenshot]  
**Me:** Look, he’s got the same terrible sense of humor as you do

 **Kiyoomi:** Puns are a classic, they’re clever wordplay

 **Me:** ok cool I’ll tell Atsumu you think he’s clever then

 **Kiyoomi:** Motoya I will end you

Slowly, patiently, he builds up a veritable mental library of facts and moments and prompts to push them ever so slowly into each other’s orbit. It’s working, from what he can tell. It’s not easy, trying to untangle a red string of fate from a whole bullet train ride away, but slowly, surely, Atsumu has more reasons to talk to Kiyoomi, and Kiyoomi has fewer reasons to avoid him.

* * *

**Addendum: But not _too_ supportive**

* * *

“So, how are things going?”

“Hm? What’s that?” Komori picks his head up from his straddle stretch and sees Suna across from him, mirroring his position. He has a curious expression, though for some reason it almost seems guarded. “What things?”

“You know, with your, er. Flirting.”

Huh?

“Huh?”

Suna gestures vaguely. “You know. With Atsumu.”

What?

“What?”

“Don’t you,” Suna pauses, looking at Motoya quizzically, “have a crush on him?”

Motoya loses his balance in his surprise and faceplants into the floor. As he pushes himself back up, Suna looks completely unruffled. He has his head comfortably propped up from his elbows as he stares at him impassively.

“Why,” he says, rubbing his smarting nose, incredulous, “do you think that I. Have a crush...on _Atsumu?_ ”

Suna’s placid look morphs into confusion. It’s all in the slight change of angle to his eyebrows. He purses his lips, then grinds out the single most disturbing thing that Motoya has heard all day. All week, even.

“Um. Because you keep...talking about him? You asked if he was dating anyone. And you’ve been texting him—”

“Oh no. No no no no—”

“Komori?”

“FUCK!”

“Komori?!”

===

**Me:** ATSUMU-KUN

 **Miya:** komori?

 **Me:** I NEED TO CONFIRM SOMETHING.

 **Miya:** shoot

 **Me:** YOU KNOW THAFH I  
**Me:** THAT I  
**Me:** IM NOT FLIRTINF WTH YOU OK???

 **Miya:** komori

 **Me:** THATS NOT WHAT THIS IS

 **Miya:** ?  
**Miya:** ok? 

**Me:** SORRY THT CAME OUT WRONG YOUR V ATTRACTIVE I LIKW YOU AS APERSON BUT IM NOT TRYINF TO GET WITH YO, YOU GET ME?

 **Miya:** whoa whoa slow down  
**Miya:** that’s ok man. i didn’t think you were. and thanks...i think?

 **Me:** I HAD OTHER ULTERIOR MOTIVES I”M SORRY

 **Miya:**?

Shit, now what does he say? He totally panicked and almost spilled the beans, the can, the whole fucking field. Fuck.

 **Me:** Im dating Suna  
**Me:** That’s why I wanted to get to know you  
**Me:** as his friend

As soon as he hits send he has instant regret. He whips his head up to look at Suna, and something of the panic must still be apparent on his face, because even the ever-calm Suna looks mildly alarmed. 

How does he even begin to explain this?

===

“Suna, I am so, _so_ sorry.”

Suna, in a truly heinous display of his flexibility, also face-planted on the floor, still in the straddle stretch. But his face-to-floor, head-desk-equivalent is intentional, after Motoya details exactly why he was texting Atsumu, and the excuse he just made. 

“Suna?” Motoya feels awful. He is such a terrible wingman, and friend, and cousin, and also teammate, for putting Suna through this bullshit unwittingly. He’s had over four and a half years to acquaint himself with Motoya’s antics, but this is something new. For both of them.

Finally, Suna pops his head back up, heaves himself upwards, and pulls his legs into a criss-crossed pose. He leans an elbow on knee, and his chin perches on top of his hand with a carefully blank face directed at Komori.

“So, let me get this straight.”

Motoya nods.

“You’ve been trying to set up Atsumu with Sakusa. Because of something about sparkling?”

Nod.

“And you were texting Atsumu to set him up. With Sakusa. Not flirting with him.”

Motoya doesn’t nod, just lets his head sink down this time. 

“You don’t like Atsumu like that. But you told him we’re dating because you panicked.”

Motoya can’t bear to look at Suna’s absolutely deadpan face of judgment that he must be sporting right now. He’s got his own in his hands now, too ashamed to look up. He wants to disappear into the floor. He’s suddenly so grateful that this is happening after practice, not before. Their teammates are used to their three youngest members dallying after practice. Fortunately Washio had to leave early; at least he’s not here to witness this disaster first hand.

“I’m really, really sorry Suna. I messed up, and I didn’t know what to say about why I was texting him so much otherwise, and you were right in front of me and you’re friends with Atsumu so I—”

“Okay.”

“What?” Motoya pops his face up. 

“I’m saying okay,” Suna says, face still unreadable. “I’ll pretend for you—but only until they get together.”

That’s so much more than he deserves. He scoots forward to grasp Suna’s hands in his own and bows his head in relief instead of shame this time.

“Thank you. I don’t know what to say—”

“You owe me so many chuupets,” Suna cuts him off.

“I don’t think our nutritionist will agree with that,” Komori looks up with a sly smile, but Suna’s face is absolutely dead serious.

“So. Many. Chuupets.”

“Okay okay.”

* * *

**Step 5: Go with the flow**

* * *

“I leave you guys for _one day_ and now you’re fake dating. To get Sakusa and Miya together.” Washio says, sounding thoroughly unimpressed while massaging his temples. “Please. Do explain.”

It’s after practice the next day, and Washio has them cornered by virtue of pulling the senpai card and taking them out for a meal. Not that Motoya minds, he could use a drink to go over this fiasco. He fills him in—fills them both in—on the whole story. The resolve to be the best wingman, the Sparkle Theory, his text buddy strategy that went horribly awry.

Suna wrinkles his nose a bit at that last one, but before Motoya can apologize again, he actually cuts in to speak too. 

“It’s okay,” he says, to both Motoya and Washio. “I don’t mind, really. Besides, the more I hear Komori talk about it, the more I’m starting to see it too. Their sparkly potential, or whatever. Like I said before, Atsumu’s kind of a jerk. They deserve each other.”

“See, it makes sense!”

“Oh no, no, there is nothing sensible about this,” Washio crosses his arm and leans back in his seat to look at both of them, almost sternly. Motoya suddenly remembers the years of playing Fukurodani in the Tokyo qualifiers and the way that team was calm and competent in spite of, or perhaps because of, a capricious ace.

“Komori, I commend your, uh, ambition. But did you ever think that you could let things happen naturally too?”

(He spares Suna the lecture, only giving Suna a look, like _‘you’re going along with this?’_ and Suna shrugs, like _‘why not’_.)

“That’s the thing though! I know Sakusa the best. And knowing what I know now about Atsumu—courtesy of Suna, the internet, my own research—”

_“Research?”_

“Research! Those two aren’t going to realize their own romantic potential without a little push, a little prompting,” Motoya slams his hands down on the table. “They’re volleyball idiots! We know that the best because we’re also volleyball idiots!” 

Washio actually looks up in contemplation at that. Good man, Washio. He always gives proper consideration to Motoya’s rambling with a kind of stolid acceptance that Motoya appreciates. 

“Okay. I’ll take your word for it. But I offer one thing to consider—if you orchestrate too much, aren’t you setting yourself up for a problem? Nobody likes to think they’ve been led by the nose into something. I think you have to let them do some of the work without your ‘help’.”

“What do you mean,” Motoya eyes him suspiciously.

“You know. Go with the flow. Let things happen naturally,” Washio leans forward again. “Part of being a good wingman is letting nature take its course too. You built the foundation, right? Now you’re here for support while they work out the details. Take it from me, as your senpai. In volleyball and in the ways of the wingman.”

Ah...that’s right. Bokuto and the Fukurodani setter. Well, if anyone would know, Washio would, even if he was less of a singular wingman and more a part of a...flock? Still—

“You’re a libero.” Suna intones sleepily from next to him, lazily spinning his glass in a puddle of condensation and looking up at Motoya with alcohol-bright eyes. “You’ve got his back, like always. Just roll with it, Komori.”

===

So Komori rolls with it. As Suna pointed out, he’s a libero. Rolling receives are second nature to him. 

It’s not difficult. After all, Hiroshima is a good couple hours from Osaka and Higashiosaka. It’s easy to stop trying to set up Kiyoomi and Atsumu from a few prefectures away. No more “offhand” suggestions to Atsumu, no more goading Kiyoomi. Good vibes only.

He still texts Atsumu, of course, it’d be too suspicious if he stopped now. He has to keep up appearances with Suna. They decided to say it’s still a bit of a secret, so no need to cover for it in public or explain the lack of any obvious affection. 

Motoya learns more about Suna from Atsumu than he ever thought he’d need to know. He would feel uncomfortable about it, but Suna says he doesn’t mind the first time he brings it up. Atsumu, for all his loud and cocky appearance, is a good friend. He talks up Suna the same way that Motoya has slipped in tidbits about Kiyoomi, and it's...endearing. 

It almost makes him feel better about pulling Suna into this, since he gets to learn so much about his friend from a different point of view. The one downside to this is that Motoya has to keep up the charade with Kiyoomi too. His cousin, predictably, takes an unholy amount of glee in Motoya’s new relationship, and takes every chance he can to be smug about it.

“What was that about a high school crush, huh, Motoya? Anything you have to share, maybe about a certain middle blocker from a certain Hyogo representative school?” Kiyoomi’s voice is a little tinny through the phone’s speaker phone, but Motoya can still hear a curl of righteous satisfaction in it.

“Listen, I may be dating Suna now, but that doesn’t mean I had a crush on him back then—”

“No no, you don’t get to give me that ‘no crush’ nonsense, not with how much you insist I have one on—well, not with how much crap you gave me.”

“It’s different.”

“A fateful meeting at Interhigh? The tension between a top middle blocker with tricky shots versus the top high school libero? High school rivals meeting again as teammates? _Is this ringing a bell?_ ”

Motoya actually has to fight down a bit of blush from that, but not because Kiyoomi is right or anything. It’s just a little embarrassing to have to act like Kiyoomi isn’t right, when he, well, isn’t right, but not for the reasons that he thinks.

“The only bells that’ll be ringing are victory bells. For us. When we absolutely trash MSBY next month.”

Motoya can practically hear Kiyoomi narrowing his eyes and winding up for a snarky response. Safe. This will distract him from the Suna thing for a while. He takes a deep breath as Kiyoomi launches into a point-by-point discussion of EJP’s defense versus MSBY’s defense. Hopefully he can work the conversation back to Atsumu by the end of the call. Even if he’s not directly meddling, he can still work on the idea with Kiyoomi.

Go with the flow. Let things happen naturally. He can do this. 

* * *

**Step 6: Don’t leave a date to fate**

* * *

Strike that, Motoya is a man of action. And as Motoya’s older sister likes to say, “Love is made of tea: a little opportunity, a bit of serendipity, and a pinch of calamity”

No, it doesn’t actually sound very sophisticated to Motoya either, but it’s ridiculous enough to stick in his head anyways. Nobody said the Komori family is good at metaphor.

He gets the sentiment, and that’s what matters. You see an opportunity and you take it. If there isn’t an opportunity to take, then make one. Sometimes it takes a little luck for things to align the way they do. And nothing brings people together more than something going a little sideways.

“You mean off the rails, in this case,” Suna says drily, looking up from where he’s stretching between drills.

“Screw you Suna,” Motoya says politely. He reaches out to topple Suna’s balance, but Suna dodges. “Anyways. Opportunity, luck, and a little bit—just a pinch—of chaos.”

“Komori, what happened to going with the flow?” Washio asks in a flat voice. “Seems like Miya and Sakusa get along fine without your...interventions.”

“Right, you’re right. But I was thinking, since, well, Suna and I _are_ dating—” Komori grins over at Suna and wiggles his eyebrows.

_“Nominally.”_

“Since we’re dating, and we have a game coming up, as long as we have this set up,” he waves a hand wildly between the two of them, “we ought to use it to our advantage. I’m talking a double date strategy to get those two idiots to see each other outside of volleyball. Except, obviously, we won’t call it a date. But you’re Atsumu’s friend and I’m Sakusa’s cousin and we’re dating, so it makes sense that if we want to hang out in Osaka we can all hang out together.”

“How does that work?” Sometimes it’s difficult to tell if Suna is actually skeptical or being difficult for the sake of being difficult.

“Well, obviously you want to hang out with your old pal Atsumu, and I want to hang out with you, and Sakusa has to hang out with me. Get it?”

“Still sounds complicated,” Washio remarks gravely.

“There is no way that sounds natural to either of them,” Suna chimes in.

Motoya flaps a hand in the face of their skepticism. “That’s what you think, but we’ll bring them together outside of their usual routine and the fireworks will go off. They won’t even care about how they got there. You’ll see.”

“Something will go off, that’s for sure. Or someone.”

“That’s the spirit, Suna.”

Washio sighs.

“Still, it was one thing to say we’re dating as an excuse. But directly meddling with your cousin’s love life?” Suna wrinkles his nose. “And Atsumu’s.”

“You call it meddling, I call it facilitating true love.”

“You say that because you didn’t go to school with Atsumu,” Suna grimaces.

“But I did grow up with Sakusa,” Motoya shoots back.

“Alright you two, this isn’t a competition, it’s a collaboration, right?” Washio intervenes, pushing them back into the drill line. “We’ll go over the details after practice.”

===

For all Suna’s and Washio’s apprehension, neither Atsumu nor Kiyoomi protest the idea of hanging out as a group. EJP will be in town overnight for a weekend game, and they’ll have a rest day afterwards with plenty of time for a “date”. It’s as simple as a quick series of texts; Suna asks to have Atsumu show them around, and Motoya says he made plans to hangout with Kiyoomi, and voilà, proposing they all hangout together.

The morning of the big day, Motoya realizes it was a mistake letting Atsumu decide the itinerary. Surely, Motoya thought, showing friends around town would mean hitting up some big tourist landmarks, maybe some hole-in-the-wall restaurant that only a Miya would know, the big botanical gardens in the center of town or something equally casual-yet-could-skew-romantic. Motoya thought he’d have a lot to work with here.

So when Atsumu pulls out the tickets for Universal Studios Japan with a flourish and leads them to the park’s entrance gates, Motoya plasters a smile on his face even though he’s internally cringing. Kiyoomi agreed to this? He looks over at his cousin, and sure enough, Kiyoomi seems unfazed by the venue. He’s not one to hide it when he finds something distasteful, so his neutral expression means he knew this was the plan for today.

“Alright guys, if you’re gonna enjoy Osaka, you might as well enjoy the exclusive USJ park. Why go see a bunch of castles and stuff like that?” he waves a hand in the air to brush the mere thought away. “You can find those in pictures any time.”

Atsumu poses in front of the entrance gate dramatically. “This though! Only six of these places in the world. Might as well experience it today!”

Suna nudges Motoya’s shoulder as families and couples stream around them. “He said they both got pairs of tickets for free as part of some promotional thank you,” he leans over to whisper.

“Sakusa hates public, crowded places like this,” Motoya whispers back furiously. In front of them, Atsumu is gesturing for them to join a group selfie in front of the entrance. “This is a disaster.”

“Relax, Komori, it’ll be fine,” Suna says with a soft huff of laughter, wrapping a lazy arm around Motoya’s shoulders as he guides them both to join them. Motoya almost startles at the unusual display of skinship from Suna, but then remembers that they actually have to play up being boyfriends today. “Besides, what was it you said? A little chaos, right?”

Damnit, Suna is right.

===

Motoya is the world’s foremost expert on Sakusa Kiyoomi and he has been for over a decade and a half. But, for all Kiyoomi’s steadfast nature, his routines, his predictability in many respects, Motoya forgets that he can still surprise him.

It’s a little off season, early in the spring and a bit chilly, but there is enough of a crowd that Motoya would expect a gloomy look on Kiyoomi’s face. Instead, Atsumu navigates the crowd with ease and Kiyoomi walks beside him just as comfortably.

When did Kiyoomi’s usual slouch relax into the ease he sees now? 

And it doesn’t stop there. Motoya has years of adjusting for and circumventing Kiyoomi-related hazards, but with Atsumu here, he’s finding out he doesn’t need to. Even though he’s been lobbying for this the whole time, it still feels surreal to see it play out in front of him. 

First there’s the packed lunch. Kiyoomi generally doesn’t trust food prepared in the little stands and busy restaurants of any kind of public venue, so Motoya fully expected him to skip lunch. He planned to be making excuses for Kiyoomi when his mood inevitably soured with his growing appetite later. Instead, when Suna and Motoya start to map out how the possible food options intersect with their ride interests, Atsumu pulls out a small, wrapped bundle from his bag.

“Omi-kun, if you’re not interested in the park food, I brought a snack from Samu’s place. Made sure he wore gloves and everything,” he says, unwrapping a few neatly packaged onigiri. There’s a pause where both Suna and Motoya register the exchange with surprise.

“What, none for us, Atsumu?” Suna says, recovering first and leaning heavily on Atsumu’s shoulder to pretend to reach out for one. Kiyoomi moves quickly to snatch the bundle, mumbling a quick thanks. Atsumu carries on like it was nothing, but even Suna recognizes this as an unusual exchange, going by the look he gives Motoya. Motoya nods in agreement.

Then there’s all the queues and rides. Kiyoomi hates crowds; that has never changed in all the years they’ve known each other. For such a big guy he would fold himself into the smallest version he could be in a crowded space. Here though, he looks almost at ease. He stands tall, and while the four of them are big enough to carve their way through any particularly crowded areas with ease, Kiyoomi doesn’t look fazed by any of it. He still keeps his hands tucked in his pockets and his mask over his face more often than not, but as they meander their way from one attraction to the next he seems comfortable to walk beside Atsumu.

Suna and Motoya follow closely behind, and Motoya watches with wonder at how Atsumu guides Kiyoomi around with a gentle tug to a sleeve, a hand at the shoulder, and Kiyoomi doesn’t blink at the familiarity. Atsumu positions himself in the lines to create the most amount of space. He brushes off the seats on the rides before Kiyoomi climbs into them, even offers to tuck Kiyoomi’s belongings in his own bag for safekeeping instead of sticking them in the temporary ride lockers.

But maybe the most telling part of all is when _Kiyoomi_ shows the same amount of consideration back. Motoya knows that Kiyoomi is a good guy, okay? He’s always going to be the first fighter in his corner. He’s a big softie behind his prickly outer shell, but that outer shell is usually ninety-five percent blunt jerk. Kiyoomi is usually considerate by virtue of being proper, not necessarily for consideration’s sake. But the way he reciprocates Atsumu’s careful, quiet, and understated kind of attention is something new.

It happens after the dinosaur ride, all cheesy animatronics and flashing lights with a big splash ending. Suna catches Motoya’s hand with a laugh when he almost trips getting out of the ride, and Motoya finds himself blushing, for falling, for the way Suna keeps holding his hand even after he steadies himself. They’re both so focused on the weird, off-kilter moment that they almost don’t notice how long it takes their companions to join them until Atsumu comes tottering up. Atsumu looks a little pale, and actually bends over a bit with a hand to his chest. Kiyoomi is nowhere to be seen.

“What’s up, Atsumu? T-rex got your tongue?” Suna asks with a snort. Motoya elbows him, but is busy looking for Kiyoomi in the rest of the crowd.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up Suna,” Atsumu makes a rude hand gesture. “Samu and I watched all the movies when we were really young—stayed up late and snuck around our parents to watch ‘em at a relatives house. Kind of forgot how scary that was when we were little. Not like you run into dinosaurs on the daily to remind you.”

Suddenly, there’s a quiet smack, and Atsumu reaches up to catch the wet handkerchief that Kiyoomi plops on his face. Motoya didn’t see him return, preoccupied with looking for him in the other direction.

“Oi, what’s this for?” Atsumu asks, about to pull the cloth off his face, but Kiyoomi actually places his hand on top of it too.

“Relax, Miya,” Kiyoomi gives Suna and Motoya a little shooing motion with his hand as he guides Atsumu to a nearby bench. “You’re getting yourself worked up. Sit. Breathe.”

Atsumu doesn’t protest any further, simply lets the cloth drape over his eyes with a lazy half smile as Kiyoomi pulls him down to the bench.

“Uh, Komori and I will go get some water,” Suna says hurriedly, tugging on Motoya’s arm. Motoya wants to protest, wants to see how things play out in this interaction, perhaps a culmination of everything he’s worked so hard for, but Suna keeps pulling him away.

“Komori, no, we should leave them be,” he says, pitching his voice quiet and low.

“But—”

“This would definitely be one of those moments where Washio would say ‘let nature take its course’ or whatever,” Suna finally lets go of Komori’s hand in front of a vending machine. “But I see what you mean. They work well together off the court too.”

“Ha! I knew you’d come around to the idea,” Komori elbows Suna lightly. “Who knew all it’d take was an amusement park date? So cliché.”

“You’re one to talk, you wanted to ditch them in a _flower park,”_ Suna mock-gripes, slipping some coins into the machine and punching in a selection.

“Botanical gardens.”

“Peak romance for them, I’m sure,” Suna says, but lightly. He bends down to retrieve his purchase, then stands back up and hands a can of Motoya’s favorite tea to him. They move to lean against a nearby wall, silently agreeing to give their companions a bit of space.

It’s quiet, almost awkward. Now that they might be getting close to the goal of the date, Motoya suddenly remembers that Suna is in on this charade for no other reason than being a good teammate and friend, probably. 

“Well, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Suna,” Motoya says to break the silence. He spins and holds out a stiff hand to Suna, a playful mock business handshake.

Suna frowns for a split second, eyes lingering on the outstretched hand almost long enough for Motoya to think he’s done something wrong. He reaches out slowly, grasps Motoya’s hand firmly, and stares deep into Motoya’s eyes with an impossible expression, something more than his usual mild amusement.

“Anytime, Komori.”

* * *

**Step 7: Be ready to adapt**

* * *

It was too good to be true. The day and date was playing out so well so far, so he let down his guard.

Motoya knows that objectively Atsumu and Kiyoomi are at each other’s throats about as often as they are at each other’s backs. It’s something he usually only thinks about in the abstract though, because Motoya is one-hundred percent convinced that the arguing and bickering must be a part of their larger, ahem, tension. 

It’s a little different watching it play out first hand.

“—cheated, absolutely, there is no way you beat me at this—”

“It’s a goddamn carnival game, of course it’s rigged, but not by _me—_ ”

Despite his growing alarm, Motoya doesn’t have any desire to intervene. He knows how to argue with Kiyoomi, but he has no such familiarity with Atsumu. And the way Suna recounts Atsumu and Osamu’s high school tiffs, he’s not sure if this is going to come to blows.

Speaking of Suna, he walks beside Motoya with an air of perfect nonchalance. How can be so cool in the face of their grand plan possibly blowing up in front of them?

“Suna,” Motoya watches with a kind of numb horror as the crowds part away from their group, clearly avoiding the tall, loud, and petty bickering on full display. “What do we do?”

Suna doesn’t even seem to be paying attention, eyes fixed on his phone. Motoya is about to run straight into the thick of the argument in front of them, dignity be damned, if Suna doesn’t have an answer, but Suna’s words stop him. “I have an idea.”

===

It turns out that Suna’s idea is just a hop skip down the road and across the Konohana bridge to a go-kart place. Motoya doesn’t see the wisdom in this until he has a helmet shoved into his hands and watches Kiyoomi and Atsumu speed walking to the vehicles outside, safety gear already fully donned, jostling each other so much to be the first at the track that they almost look like they’re skipping arm in arm.

“Nothing to settle some differences like some good old fashioned competition, right?” Suna says from Motoya’s shoulder.

From the distance they hear Atsumu yelling. “WE SETTLE THIS LIKE MEN, OMI-OMI.”

“How is this any different from their competition before?” Motoya looks down at his reflection in the safety helmet. His eyebrows are doing a quizzical little dance.

“Well, a little ‘action’ is good, don’t you think? Speed and racing and big noisy machines are definitely better than a carnival game for working out some tension.” Suna smiles into the reflection to, a barely-there tilt at the corner of his lips. “And, either way, you win, right?”

Motoya feels apprehension prickling up the back of his neck, but then Suna’s got an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to a two-seater on the track (like hell they’re going to get in between...whatever Kiyoomi and Atsumu are doing).

“Let’s leave them to it, trust me,” Suna says, stopping Motoya’s protests before he can think to voice them. “Now, c’mon, what you say we make this a little more interesting for ourselves too?”

Motoya shakes his head with a small laugh of disbelief because of how easy he finds himself believing Suna. And why not? He hasn’t let him down this whole time, not once. “Okay,” he laughs, “okay, I’ll bite. What are we betting? I already owe you a lifetime supply of chuupet, what more could you possibly want from me, Suna Rintarou?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” Suna’s eyes glimmer with mischief, and he taps his phone thoughtfully to his chin. “How about, if Atsumu wins, I get to ask you for a favor. Anything. Within reason, of course,” he tacks on when Motoya’s eyes narrow.

“And if Sakusa wins, I get the same?”

“Yep.”

“Deal.”

===

“What’s wrong, Omi-kun, couldn’t get enough of seeing my rear end?”

“You say that like you didn’t lose twenty five of fifty-one rounds.”

“But I _won_ twenty-six. You may have won the battle, but you lost the war.”

It’s been nearly two hours of non-stop racing, and they’re still at it. Kiyoomi and Atsumu once again ahead of Motoya and Suna, but this time Atsumu keeps the pace to a cool saunter, and Kiyoomi keeps pace. Motoya thinks he’s going to need to step into this before it devolves into an actual petty fist fight, but Suna pulls him back with a finger to his mouth. _Wait_. 

“—how did you like my driving, Omi-omi, pretty sexy, huh?” Atsumu does the most obnoxious hair flip.

“I wouldn’t use that word. Competent, maybe. Barely,” Kiyoomi answers, but he is totally watching the arc of Atsumu’s hand with, oh god, is that fascination? He quickly schools his face into something more disdainful. “You wouldn’t be able to _handle_ a proper machine.”

“That sounds like a challenge. You offering to show me _your_ ride _,_ Omi-kun?”

“I’ll show you—”

Suna and Motoya stopped following closely as soon as the others’ voices lost their edge of irritation from before and took on an edge of something...else.

They watch the two as they lean in closer and closer, still bantering, completely in their own world, the friends they’re supposed to be hosting completely forgotten. Mission...accomplished? Maybe?

“I guess that means you won too, Suna,” Motoya says, in lieu of having to decide whether this was a good decision or not. He doesn’t mind in the least. He already owes Suna so much, what’s one more favor on top of that? “Your wish is my command.”

“Hm?” Suna looks up like he’s deep in thought, but he’s definitely doing it all for show going by the small smile and sly side-eye he’s giving to Motoya. He already knows what he wants, but he says, “Let me think about it.”

Motoya shrugs. Whatever suits Suna suits him too, at this point.

* * *

**Step 8: Accept the credit you deserve and celebrate your success**

* * *

They catch a late train back to Hiroshima. Motoya checks his phone every few minutes on the journey, waiting for a text or a post or some kind of sign that the rest of the night is going well for Kiyoomi and Atsumu. They saw them off at the station, and Motoya knows they had casual dinner plans afterwards.

But, nothing. He tells himself not to text Kiyoomi or Atsumu, lest he distract them in a Moment, but ends up checking his phone so much that even Suna gives him a worried glance, eyes flicking between Motoya’s face and the phone in his hand. Motoya swallows, tucking his phone away for a while, distracting himself by watching Suna play a _Kira Kira_ mobile game. 

By the end of the week following their excursion with absolutely no indication of any kind of progress, nothing except a few cursory messages of ‘thanks’ and ‘see you next time’, Motoya feels his hopes plummeting.

He hits rock bottom right as they’re wrapping up practice on Friday. He’s worked himself up to a rant by the time Suna joins him in the locker room, the rest of the team long gone, and as soon as Suna joins him on one of the benches, he lets the words go.

“Oh my god. I’m a total failure. The worst wingman. Maybe the worst cousin too. I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea.”

“Komori.”

“—of course I should’ve accounted for their stupid competitions, I mean, goddamnit, I’m the one who started that—”

“Komori!”

Hands clamp down firmly on Motoya’s shoulders and his head shoots up to see Suna crouching in front of him. “You’re not a failure,” Suna says, resolute. He locks eyes with Motoya, oddly serious, eyes searching. Then he abruptly lets go, stands up and spins around, scrubs a hand through his hair. “Augh. What that fuck am I even doing…”

He turns back. “Hey, Komori. Can I ask you for that favor now?”

“Now?”

Suna hesitates, but gathers a determined look. “Now.”

Motoya takes in the look on his face and nods. Suna stalks back forward and places his hands on Motoya’s shoulders again. He bends down and leans in so their faces are inches away from each other. “Komori, would you do me the favor of—”

“Hey, guys—whoa, uh.” Washio walks into the locker room and stops in his tracks. Suna doesn’t move his hands, just slowly turns his face towards Washio with an absolutely frigid deadpan. Motoya, frozen otherwise, barely registers their teammate as well.

Washio coughs, awkward. “Komori. I think you should check your phone.”

Huh? The words don’t make sense at first, but then Suna lets go of his shoulders. He turns to his duffle bag and pulls out the device. He has an unusually high number of new messages, but the first one from Kiyoomi shows some kind of image attachment (rare from him), so he opens it first.

 **Kiyoomi:** Ok. You were right.

The attached picture shows Kiyoomi and Atsumu wrapped in each other’s arms, with Atsumu pressing a kiss onto Kiyoomi’s jaw as Kiyoomi smiles and takes the selfie. They look incredibly, impossibly happy.

Motoya can’t believe his eyes. He’s still staring, flabbergasted, when Suna pushes his own phone into Motoya’s line of sight. It’s open to a post on twitter, with a similar image from a different angle pulled up. This one looks like it’s from Atsumu’s phone, and Kiyoomi is the one pressing a kiss onto his head. There are already thousands of likes, but the post is only a few minutes old.

**_Miya Atsumu MSBY BJ_** @setter_miyaa  
[_] Single [✓] Taken  
[Image]  
429 🗨️ 3.9k ⟲ 4.3k ♡

“I think I need a drink,” Komori says after a full thirty seconds in stunned silence.

“I think you’re going to get a whole toast, Komori,” Suna replies, but when Motoya looks back up, his smile is fond.

“Cheers to that,” Washio says, massaging his temples. “It’s on me. Let’s go.”

* * *

**(A Note on the Personal Application of Previous Steps)**

* * *

So begins the epic romance of Kiyoomi and Atsumu. It didn’t all go to plan, but maybe love isn’t about having all the answers—especially not about someone else’s romance.

Kiyoomi and Atsumu throw a post-season celebration dinner amongst friends, which means most of the V.League is invited and a significant number of them show up. They rent an entire restaurant for the bash. It’s something Motoya would never picture Kiyoomi doing. It’s something he’s learning that Kiyoomi-and-Atsumu definitely would.

Right now, the sappy couple in question is making a fool of themselves on a makeshift dance floor, neither particularly gifted in rhythm but laughing and swaying to the music anyways. Friends and teammates join them. It’s a lively, happy atmosphere. 

“Good job, Komori,” Washio claps a hand down on Motoya’s shoulder, and gently pushes the drink from Motoya’s hand down the bar before he sits next to him. He orders them some water.

“Look at ‘em, just look at ‘em!” Motoya murmurs into the polished bartop. “You’d think they’ve been dating for years. It’s barely been two months. The longest part of their relationship so far is the courtship, and like, eighty percent of that work was all me. Unless you count the chemistry on the court as part of the courtship. Heh. Court. Ship. Good job you say—damn right! Job well fucking done if you ask me. I’m the best wingman. Tell me I’m the best wingman, Washio, you’d know.”

“You’re the best wingman,” Washio agrees, and presses a glass of water into his hand.

Motoya’s phone vibrates on the bar when he finishes the glass. A message pops up on Line. Motoya thumbs it open, and sees a photo of the couple doing a horrendously postured dip from Suna. A sticker follows: a square-faced fox makes a grim, but hilarious face, the text around it reading “ _For fox’s sake!”_

Washio’s eyes flick downwards and catch the message too. 

“You know, I think you were onto something with this whole process of yours.”

“Yeah?” Komori answers, distracted. He’s trying to find the perfect sticker in response. Line is woefully lacking in cute weasel representation.

“Yeah. What did you say the first step was? ‘Open your eyes to the possibilities’?” 

A firm hand lands on Motoya’s head and tips it up from his phone, tilting it towards the far side of the room. Across the groups of people, past all the din and merriment, Motoya locks eyes with Suna.

Suna’s head whips back down to his phone, and, is that...a blush? 

“Maybe you can make sure of it with some...hm, personal experience?”

Komori can’t tell if his cheeks are red too or if that’s the alcohol talking. He doesn’t dare look at Washio, because he already knows there’s going to be a smug smile on his face.

Instead, he looks over at Kiyoomi and Atsumu again, how stupid in love they are, how much he watched them dance around each other and swore to never be like that.

He still owes Suna a favor. He’s pretty sure he knows what Suna wants to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a weird epiphany for this fic at the beginning of the month, so here we are, once again. I’m not totally satisfied with this, but it is also one of those ideas that wouldn’t leave me alone until I keysmashed it out in all it’s...well, not glory. Whatever this is. Thank you for sticking around if you got this far!
> 
> Anyways. And so finishes another totally spontaneous, absolute mess of a fic that literally started from the title and crack summary alone, and which derailed my writing schedule, per usual.
> 
> May you, too, have a Komori on your side always.
> 
> Some brief notes:  
> > I lied in the tags, the best wingman is actually Washio.  
> > SunaKomo has been niggling the back of my mind since their brief cameo in Home for the Howlidays, please take my meager offering.  
> > This fic gave me a lot of trouble! I actually completely rewrote it! I tweeted this, but I always find [this advice](https://neil-gaiman.tumblr.com/post/106817917251/smashing-pots) very helpful when I struggle with creative pursuits. “...acknowledge failure, [don't] fear it, and then smash the hell out of it.”  
> > I’m still not sure if this was very successful, but I enjoyed the writing at the beginning so I still wanted to follow through and finish it.  
> > The original title for this fic was “How To Get Your Cousin Laid” better or worse? Idk.  
> > I know literally nothing about USJ except what google and ride-throughs could tell me. Please give me your willing suspension of disbelief on those details ^^;  
> > The Komori & Sakusa running illustration lives rent-free in my head! I can only hope to do their cousin dynamics justice. Also, if it wasn’t clear, they refer to each other by first names in private, last names in public (just taken from how Komori talks vs. narrates in Ch. 394)  
> > “nothing is impossible, just highly improbable” - I wrote this line, and then was like, wait is that a universal phrase or a quote from something?? So I looked it up…It’s from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (which I have read and do like!). Even though I didn’t originally intend to quote from that...let’s just say Komori is a fan of the book. ;)
> 
> Fellow SunaKomo / KomoSuna shippers, this is a planned three part series, and the second part of this series will focus a little more on their relationship development as well as more SakuAtsu shenanigans. I hope you all can look forward to the sequel, title and crack summary, once again, already raring to go. ;)
> 
> As always feel free to say hi on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/tirralirralirra)


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